Knocking out this bad boy as quickly as I can. I want to get a few chapters up in rapid succession, you know, so there's some story that actually exists to guilt trip me into writing more.
Now I'm not one for planning. I have very little idea where this story will end up. This chapter is buying me time.
1.
Blurs and Bleary Eyes
The three months that Ginny had got from Harry passed by in a blur (convenient, for this omnipresent narrator at least). He vaguely remembered not wanting to cry at one point and he was pretty sure Ginny beamed at him at least twice in that period. Apart from that all that stuck in his mind were seemingly ceaseless graves and far too many speeches. The ministry had made him hold a press conference. Thankfully Kingsley had kept it short, 'just doing what must' he told Harry with a weary smile. Harry got the impression Kingsley liked it just as little as he did.
On top of that he'd been asked, and unable to turn down, to make 'short' speeches at the ceremonies for Snape, Lupin and also the memorial service held a week after the battle. Harry was knackered, but determined. He and Ginny had their plan. In the few quiet moments they'd thought what they wanted to do and organised it. In a suitcase, underneath Harry's camp-bed in Ron's room was a folder full of pictures, forms and identification to get them everywhere they fancied. He wished he'd been this prepared for his jaunt after the Horcruxes.
For the first time in weeks there was a couple of days respite from the funerals, the meetings and the conversation. Harry was sat in the Weasley's front room, eyes closed but not asleep.
'Mr. Potter,' said a cool, female voice from the doorway. Harry grinned.
'Miss Weasley, you are interrupting.' he replied, eyes closed.
'Yes I do that,' Harry felt her move into the room and sit on the sofa next to the chair where he sat.
'Any cause for this interruption.'
'To pass on information.' Harry opened a single eye to look at Ginny. She looked at him steadily. In her forest-green jumper and tight jeans Harry was reminded for the 85th time since the battle of just what she could do to him.
'Diagon Alley. 7pm.'
'What's in Diagon Alley?' He asked, returning his focus to resting his eyes and inwardly grinning at how much effort this took.
'Ollivanders.'
'Why is that important?'
'It's not, but inane questions get inane answers.' Harry huffed. Ginny didn't like being ignored, even in jest. He never wins this game. Slowly he opens both his eyes and fixes his attention on Ginny. She lets herself smile back.
'Pray tell, oh seventh child of seven children, of first daughter of seven generations, what the hell are we doing in Diagon Alley.' He drew out her titles with a drawl he'd perfected from more conversations with Malfoy then he'd wished.
'Casa Fresca and then Vamos! The whole lot of us. We're blowing off steam.' She grinned at him. He'd introduced her to tapas one day in London a few weeks ago on ministry business. She couldn't get enough of Spanish culture. Even more addicted was she since she discovered the European Quarter just off of Diagon Alley. Harry chewed the cud for a while. Pretending to be reticent to do anything Ginny suggested was just another one of their little games they'd developed.
'What do you say, Harry?'
He rolled his head so his eyes fixed on her. Straight faced he stared at her.
''Bout fucking time is what I say!'
And then they kissed. Obviously.